Page 49 of The Lady’s No Angel

“I’m not sorry I kissed you,” he replied, lips quirking.

She huffed out a laugh, giving his chest a little push. “Come on. This won’t find Jenny, and I want to leave this wretched place as quickly as we can.”

He nodded, but instead of moving back to where he’d come from, he stayed close. She didn’t complain. She wanted him there, beside her, even if it wasn’t the best idea.

So they carried on searching, walking and walking, stopping now and then to inspect a marker, to brush dirt from a crude headstone. By the time the sun began its descent back to earth, Angel was beside herself with frustration.

And then she saw it.

Her breath caught, and she clutched Leo’s sleeve, stopping dead in her tracks.

“What?” he demanded, looking about them.

Her fingers tightened upon his arm, laughter bubbling in her throat.

Oh, Pops, you wicked old man, you were romantic.

Ahead of them, its tangle of thorny stems climbing through the branches of a stunted hawthorn bush, was a wild rose. The hips, which might have been a vivid orange weeks ago, were a darker red now, shrivelled and dry, but Angel knew it. She turned in a circle, scanning the heath for any other signs of roses growing here, but found none.

It’s not like I haven’t given you clues enough. You’ll find my lovely Jenny and my treasure too. Be sure to take her flowers. She always liked roses.

“Will you please tell me what it is—” Leo began, but his words were cut short as Milly’s shrill scream lanced through the wind.

They came out of the gorse behind the gig—too late to shout, too late to run.

“Toby!” Angel exclaimed, realising they were not as alone and isolated as she had believed.

Milly made a choked sound of shock, her hand going to her mouth as she turned to stare at Angel.

Leo was moving before Angel had even registered the shapes of one large man and a woman. The crack of a pistol exploded across the heath. Angel shrieked in alarm, but the shot hit the ground a little to Leo’s right. A warning.

“Stay where you are!” The woman’s voice, harsh and guttural, instructed them coldly. “No ‘arm will come to the little fella, so long as you do what I tells you.”

Angel’s heart pumped hard behind her ribs as she saw the man holding Toby with a thick, muscular arm about his skinny chest, a knife pressed to the boy’s throat. No! Oh, no. Don’t hurt him. She had left her pistol and the knife in the back of the gig, buried in her carpetbag. Fool! Yet they had felt like the only people in the world, out here on the heath.

“Who are you?” Angel called, wishing her voice sounded steadier, surer as the wind whipped the sound away.

“Never you mind that. But I know what’s buried here, and who with. Old Black Jack was a sly old dog, I’ll give him that. I’d never have guessed if you’d not led me by the nose. Grateful for that, I am.”

Angel muttered a curse under her breath, castigating herself for her carelessness. Pops would never forgive her for that. But all was not lost yet. She was Black Jack Baxter’s granddaughter, after all. He’d been in worse situations than this one, and he always found his way out of them, using his wits and a ruthless streak a mile wide.

“Seeing as I’m so grateful, like, I’m going to make you an offer.”

In the distance, appearing as a speck behind the woman who seemed in charge of the situation, a cart became visible. She gestured to it.

“I’m going to take this young shaver and tuck him up nice and careful like, somewhere you won’t find him. In exchange, I’m going to leave you a shovel each. You’re going to dig up Black Jack’s loot, and then you’ll come and meet Bill and Stan here, at the Bull and we’ll exchange, nice and tidy. The lad for the loot.”

Leo shifted, his fists clenched. Angel could sense his rage. He was practically vibrating with frustration, with the desire to do violence, but they were powerless all the time that knife pressed against Toby’s throat.

There was nothing to do but watch and wait, wait for the cart to arrive, for them to throw down the shovels, and then for them to haul Toby into the cart and drive away.

Chapter 14

Fading Light

The Gallows, Penenden Heath, Kent, 10th April 1816

Hart’s fists were clenched, fury surging through his veins like acid as he kept his gaze on the man holding Toby hostage, watching the interplay between him and the woman.